


Masquerade

by lexlee20



Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: F/M, Hatoful birdfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:36:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexlee20/pseuds/lexlee20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bird!Yuuya and Hiyoko engage in costumed shenanigans while (or instead of) spying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A dance to remember

**Author's Note:**

> Original hatofulkink prompt: _Anybirdie/Hiyoko. The bird (as a bird, yes) completely dominates her. I don't care how you do it. Maybe he drugs her and ties her up, or maybe he blackmails her into performing humiliating auto-erotic sexual acts, or maybe it's consensual and she happily obeys him._

Hiyoko rearranged the drape of her gown, checking the mirror in their hotel bathroom. "Yuuya, who designed this thing, anyway?"

"I have no idea, mon amie." She could hear his feathers rustling in the next room, where he was adjusting his dinner jacket. "Headquarters sent it along for tonight's mission. They said you're meant to be so beautiful that everyone of interest will automatically assume you're meant to distract attention from me, so then they'll follow me like hawks and ignore you. That way, you'll be free to find the drop point and leave behind the data card without anyone the wiser. They said it's hidden in a silver paillette near the shoulder. Have you found it? Do you need help with the fasteners? Can I see?"

"It's not that complicated to put on. It's just that it looks like a cross between a honeymoon nightgown and a costume from 'Swan Lake'."

"Perhaps it's meant to look that way. After all, opening night at the ballet can be nearly as good as a costume ball, someti--" His sentence stopped dead as she emerged with a low, sweeping curtsey, flaring out the long sleeves and half-train. Although the silver lace overdress was fitted and fastened near the waist, most of its front was left open like a peignoir; the short white satin slip beneath it only covered her legs to mid-thigh.

He stared at her, speechless. His beak was actually gaping open, and his wingtip fell away from his half-fastened bow tie.

"Yuuya," she laughed, "are you actually fanning your tail at me? You never do that!"

He glanced at the mirror behind him, abashed. "Eheheh. How gauche of me. I haven't had an involuntary display like that since middle school. But I beseech you, please do that again and stay down on your knees this time, so the lace stays spread out on the floor."

"Yuuya. I don't know what you're thinking, but you know we're supposed to get to the ballet early tonight."

"The ballet won't start for hours yet, and the ballroom gala won't start until afterwards," he coaxed. "And besides, if you do this, I'll tell you what I'm thinking."

"I was afraid of that," Hiyoko teased him, but swirled into another curtsey anyway. As she kneeled on the floor, he walked around her slowly: two complete circuits of closely admiring the outspread sleeves and train from every angle. His eyes were more intense than usual, but he made no attempt to touch her.

At last, he went to the full-length mirror and pulled it toward them at an angle. "I am thinking, mon amie, that you make a very beautiful fantail. Look."

She looked. From the side, the lace pattern looked like closely overlapping feathers. And now that the sleeves and train were spread out, they really did resemble the outstretched wings and long tail of a silver dove.

He stepped closer now, close enough for her to feel the round shape of his shirt studs through her satin slip. "Yes," Yuuya added softly, his voice warm against her throat, "une belle pigeonne-paonne crouching down in invitation. And it makes me want to dance with you, here and now. Hold me tight, mon amie."

Before Hiyoko could say anything, he began to move up and down against her, rising and falling on his toes in an ordinary dove's courtship dance. She'd seen this many times from a distance as mere flirtation, like blowing a kiss. But he'd never done this directly against her torso, with a layer of satin sliding like sweet white cream between them as he pressed his weight into her skin. When he crooned a low trill in his chest, the vibrations sank deep into her body, drawing a deep fluttering moan from her in response as she clung to him, stroking his plumage. Involuntarily, her thighs spread apart, and as she pulled him closer, the smooth satin licked up against her there too.

He preened her hair and rubbed his beak against her lips, still relentlessly moving up and down in that pulsing dance. For a moment, he wrenched his head down between them to tear the red rose from his boutonniere. He shook it hard, making the petals fly apart, then hurled the stem aside. With his beak, he took a rose petal from her shoulder and shoved it into her mouth. "Take it," he whispered urgently. "I have to feed you something, Hiyoko-- take it and lick my beak, please--"

She licked his beak with frantic obedience. As the hem of her slip rode up, his legs pressed directly against her flesh-- still pulsing, still dancing, and she had no idea what either of them were doing but she had to get his clothes off. She heard a sharp, metallic ping as a shirt stud went flying, and then he was gloriously naked with only his soft, warm feathers against her hands.

"Ah, ma colombe douce," Yuuya gasped, clutching her slip in his feet, and spread his wings out into the air. With one wingbeat, she was flat on her back, but his claws stayed clenched in the satin as he remained balanced above her in mid-air, grinding down into her body.

As his wings carried them both into delirium, she saw them in the mirror. Not Swan Lake, but Leda and the Swan, or some strange version of the Annunciation where a virgin was bodily ravished by a dove. She held his feet to keep him anchored to her, and the force of every wingbeat shuddered through her like an arrow thrumming home.

Afterward, she lay half-curled around him, as he nestled into the curve of her body. "Can we still get to the gala on time?" she asked sleepily. "I think this dress is ruined."

"Mmm. Perhaps. I do not care. Whatever Headquarters was planning, the dress was completely unnecessary. You could show up wearing tar and feathers and you would still be beautiful enough to distract anyone. Or at least me, in any case."

"I think tar and feathers might be in poor taste for 'Swan Lake'. I'll find something else to wear. If you act with your usual ludicrous charm, no one will pay any attention to me near the mission drop point anyway."

He murmured into her hair, "I'm sorry for your sake that I am not a swan, mon amie. Perhaps if I had a phallus like them, I would be more compatible with your charming human anatomy."

She kissed him, gently ruffling his feathers. "It doesn't matter. This was wonderful. We can try it again after we get back from the ballet. Although if you really think it's important... have you ever heard about a human device called a 'strap-on'?"


	2. Facing facts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: _[after years of spy partnership] Hiyoko begins to suspect, correctly or otherwise, that Yuuya is a double-agent protecting some other birdie interest and SPY-VERSUS-SPY PROCEEDS._

"Mon amie? Is something wrong?"

Hiyoko glanced behind them uncertainly, but the other gondola had already passed under a bridge and out of sight. After just a few years in Yuuya's company, it already felt strange whenever she saw another human, but this time, it was especially uncanny. It was impossible to discern anyone's specific identities under the elaborate Venetian carnival costumes-- that was why she and Yuuya were here right now, after all-- but the other boat had apparently contained a mixed couple like their own: a human woman and a male fantail pigeon. Both of them were dressed in fantastic versions of Christian religious garb, elaborately embroidered with Celtic knotwork.

The coincidence struck her as especially strange, since she and Yuuya were wearing costumes loosely based on Heian-era religious iconography, but she shrugged it off for now. "No, it's nothing," she said, and affectionately stroked Yuuya's tailfeathers. They rarely spent enough time between missions for him to grow them out, instead of clipping them more closely for aerodynamics and stealth.

He shivered, rubbing his masked beak against her layered robes. "Ma belle, do wait until we return to our room so we can preen one another properly," he murmured. "Besides, we wouldn't want you to become distracted and drop your oar into the canal, now would we?"

"I suppose not," Hiyoko said, and kept rowing the gondola through the afternoon shadows.

\---

Later that evening, she saw the other couple again, or at least another bird/human pair wearing the same costumes she'd seen earlier.

Yuuya was still in the hotel, brooding over the latest coded messages-- something about the evil mastermind Octopuddi creating an eight-colored pudding to fuel an ultraviolet death ray-- and so Hiyoko had slipped out to visit the tavernas in the historic human quarter. She'd taken off her mask so she could sip wine, and the other woman stopped and frankly stared at her bare face.

The other woman bent and whispered something to her fantail companion, who nodded and continued onward without any apparent interest. In this dim light, his monk's habit passed nearly without notice, making him simply look like an ordinary capuchin pigeon out for a stroll. By contrast, the woman walked across the room like a vivid pillar of fire, with the underlying white fabric of her nun's robes nearly obscured by the embroidered interlocking swirls of red-gold flame. "Buona sera," she said to Hiyoko, her voice muffled by her own mask.

"Buona sera," Hiyoko replied, and switched languages. "Are you British? Your accent suggests it."

"Close enough," the nun shrugged. "Your English is much better than my Japanese, if I'm making the right guess at your costume. Lady Murasaki?"

"Nakatsu-hime. She was an Imperial consort who was later venerated under the name Himegami at the shrines of Hachiman. Don't worry, I don't expect you to've heard about her."

"Hachiman.. oh, of course, your white-dove war god. Is that who your companion was dressed as? A nice joke-- the same reason that my fantail friend is wearing the robes of St. Columba of Ireland, I suppose. My costume isn't quite as good a match: St. Brigid," the nun explained. "So, what brings you here to Venice?"

Evasively, Hiyoko said, "Oh, I was curious to see the place, now that the doves have re-opened it to non-avian tourists. Though the two of us seem to be the only non-avians here tonight in the human-themed wine tavernas."

"The monkey bars," the nun said wryly. "At least our two costumes are different enough that the birds can tell us apart. Otherwise, you know what they always say-- we all look alike. Though I've been wondering lately if that's as much of a joke as they think it is. My friend and I have been hearing rumors about the Dove Party running secret human cloning programs to raise us like cattle. Do you know anything about this?"

"No," Hiyoko said very cautiously. In fact, she'd heard this rumor several times, but Yuuya had always dismissed them as bizarre propaganda spread by paranoid human separatists. "Why do you ask? And who are you, anyway?"

The nun took off her mask, revealing a face as familiar to Hiyoko as her own. In fact, it was her own face, exactly. "My name is Mahoney," she said. "Cloaca Mahoney."


End file.
